Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1887-12-01

Grace. 10 the Lake shore tn9y Went, anu
as the hot breath of the flames followed
them even into the water far out as they
could stand, till the water came up to
their necks. Even there many suffocated,
and quietly dropped into the water and
were not missed. Grace went as far as
she could, and keep her head above water.
She thought with paDg that the papers
would be wet, but they were well tied,
and anyway they would not be burned.
So she tried to take comfort, though an
awful fear had come upon her that she
should never see her parents again.
Then, too, she remembered that no one
knew she had gone, nor where to look for
her, and though she had thought only of
being brave, she found she had been fool
ish. "But the papers are safe, and papa
will be glad" was the thought that al
ways came to comfort her dis1air.
At last, after hours Of agony and terror
and distress, with groans and cries and
prayers in strange confusion, such as no
one can imagine who did not pass
through it, when many thought the world
was burning up, and all had little hope
of getting QUO alive, the fire burned itself
out in that part of the city and swept on
to the north.
weary, hungry, fainting fugitives ventur-
ed TO crawl out of the lake, wiring what
water they could from their clothes, and
set out to find spot on earth where was
no fire, if such spot there was.
Grace joined in the rush over the heat
ed earth, water pouring from her clothes
at first, but soon dried in the heat around
her. Home and papa's package was her
only thought now, but where was home?
AS soon as she reached the pavements
she saw that she was hopelessly lost
Where was Dearborn street? Where
Clark street?
All was alike unacceptable. Every
house was burned, lamp-posts, street
signs, all levelled with the ground. She
looked upon smoking and steaming
wilderness, and as she turned her face
towards where her home should be, and
saw the vast wall OF fire marching steadi-
ly on, she knew she had no home in the
world. And where then were father and
mother! The awful desOlation that swept
over the poor little soul in that terrible
moment is something too horrible for
you to imagine. Be thankful that it is.
She would have sunk under the weight
of her despair but for the thought of the
precious package. For that she moved
OUT must save it" her constant thought.
'Papa will be dishonored without it,
and the poor tired feet hurried on she
knew not where.
From that part Ct the city the only
way of reaching the West Side, where
was no fire, was over certain bridge.
Gradually the stream of people, of whom
Grace was one, drew near that bridge,
n
taking place all the time. The broad
street had hardly room for flying people
in wagons and carriages of every sort;
when then the way grew narrow there was
terrible struggle for place. Heavy wag-
ons piled high with furniture crashed
ruthlessly into carriages of people; fur
niture fell and blocked the way; vehicles
were disabled and abandoned; frightened
horses let loose to trample at their pleas
ure. people with loads thrown down;
feeble women pressed to the wall. All
the worst of human passions were let
loose, and men became fiends IN the mad
struggle for safety and life.
AS Grace reached this place, almost
crushed in the crowd, strong man be-
hind her spoke kindly.
"My poor lad" he said, ''you'l be killed
in that jam; hold on to me,' and with
great difficulty he raised her above the
crowd and stood her on the narrow rail
next the water.
''Now hold on to me-" he said, and went
on, fighting his own way, while Grace,
nearly dead with terror, and expecting.
every moment to fall into the water, held
wildly to his neck. Once or twice she
slipped, but his strong arms caught her,
and at last, after hours, as it seemed to
her, they reached the other side, and he
lifted her down.
"My boy" he said kindly, ''you look
delicate to be alone in this mad crowd
| won't you come with me?'
Oh, how Grace longed to do so, but fear
restrained her. He thought she was a
boy, and she could not explain. because it
might endauger the precious package.
'Oh, mop she said hastily, 81 must find
papa, but I thank you more than I can
say for helping me over that BRIDGE
shuddering as she spoke.
'Yes, llt5le man," said her friend,
you'd hardly have come over alive if
hadn't seen you"
"PapaT thank you too," began Grace,
and then, fearful that he or some one
would suspect she had valuables, she
turned hastily and ran down side street.
But where should she go? That was
the West Side, and free from fire, but she
had never been there, knew no one, and
the streets were full of flying people.
She could only go with them. for they all
seemed going one way.
So they were, and after a long walk, in
which she many times nearly fell with
fatigue, she reached the end of her jour
ney, the place where half the city wrs col
lected in misery and despair. It was a
wide, bare prairie. with hundreds-yes
thousands of people, some with a house
full of furniture and goods, some with
nothing in the world but their night
clothes. camped down to wait for-they
knew not what.
That scene cannot be described. Grace
sank exhausted on the ground, and very
likely would never have arisen, for she
was wet AID cold, tired and hungry. But
although everything in life seemed gone,
kind hearts were not burned up, and near
her happened to be a motherly German
woman, who had saved all the furniture of
her little house by means of her husbands
express-wagon, and was now guarding it